


Games

by kiwoa (Rinoa)



Category: Glee
Genre: 30 Days of Puckurt Drabbles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:19:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinoa/pseuds/kiwoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt couldn't believe Puck would make a mistake about Mario. Puck couldn't believe Kurt knew anything about games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [30 Days of Puckurt Drabbles](http://puckurt.livejournal.com/tag/30 days of puckurt drabble) over on the Puckurt community (greatest corner of any fandom ever!) with the theme of, well, games. Somewhere along the line, I realized that my planned ficlets could easily become one unified storyline. Let's call it the Gamesverse. Complete list of all the games covered at the end of the fic.

"World."

Puck blinks. "What?"

"The Star Levels," Kurt says distractedly, flipping another page in his Vogue and pointedly ignoring Puck and Finn's confused stares. "They weren't in Super Mario Brothers 3. That was Super Mario World."

Halfway stuck between laughing and coughing, Puck says, "Uh, no. I'm like the Mario master here. I know this stuff."

"How do you know Mario at all?" Finn says to Kurt with a frown.

Kurt licks his finger and snaps to the next page. "Check it if you don't believe me."

"Like I need to," Puck scoffs, and with that he returns to debating Nintendo vs. Microsoft with Finn. When he gets home that night, he rummages around in his closet for his chipped NES just because he feels like some old school gaming, not because he needs to prove Kurt wrong or anything. Kurt's definitely wrong. There's no way some pasty fashionador or whatever knows his boy Mario better than him.

The start-up screen strikes him as _wrong_ right off the bat. It takes until halfway through World 3 with no sign of Yoshi or any football player monsters for Puck's mind to accept the truth.

The Star Levels? They were totally in Super Mario World.

"Shit."

\--------

A deck of cards hits the desk millimeters away from his hand with a loud slap; Kurt can't help his wince. "Do you mind? I was studying. Some of us actually intend to pass Algebra II."

"War," Puck grunts. "C'mon."

Laying his textbook down in front of him, Kurt takes in Puck's tight jaw, his bitten fingernails, his _pout_. He smirks in slow motion. "You checked. I was right about the Star Levels."

Puck shakes his head, shuffles the cards from hand to hand. "Nope - winner decides who was right."

"Puck, you can't decide reality based on a card game."

"That's what you say." Puck shrugs and starts dealing. "I say if I win, it was Super Mario 3."

Kurt chews the inside of his cheeks for a moment, then sighs. "Purely as a sociological study into the bizarre inner workings of your brain... okay. Let's play."

\--------

It's not like he wanted to play it; it's just that his sister kept whining about how no one would help her finish her stable or whatever, and Puck wanted to shut her up. He's only playing it now because if he waits until morning his hops will wither. Not that he cares. Sarah fertilized some of them, though, so she'd probably be pissed that her hard work got botched. Because she... checks... his farm...

It's addictive, okay? And it's summer and Lauren's playing it friendly because he still can't figure out how to kiss her right and he's trying to be good post-juvie Puck, which means no sneaking out at night to cruise around and test his fake ID.

He's _bored_.

It's only because he's bored and he wants to see if anyone else is just as bored that he starts sending people random Farmville shit. When he gets to Kurt's name, he barely even pauses. They're friends now, or at least they work pretty awesome together (that Barbra Streisand thing was epic); he figures it's kosher.

What he doesn't figure on is Kurt responding, maybe ever, but less than five minutes later, an alert pops up.

 _ **Kurt Hummel** A cherry tree? Is this some sort of insult?_

 _ **Puck Puckerone** nah pinks ur color_

Puck only manages to plant half a dozen new crops before a gift notification appears. His farm is one pig richer.

\--------

"Are they still going?"

Blaine smiles up at Kurt and nods. "Best thirteen out of twenty-five now, I think."

Out in the living room, Finn pumps his fist triumphantly in the air. Puck socks him in the shoulder.

Kurt sighs as if he's disappointed, but it's too quick to carry any weight. "Boys. And I assume they've thrown rock and paper every time?" At Blaine's laugh, Kurt adds, "Doesn't matter - I ordered Chinese twenty minutes ago."

Blaine's still laughing, but there's something squirming in his gut now. "Chinese? You sided with Puck?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Kurt huffs. "I picked the less fatty of the options."

Maybe Blaine should argue - point out that he actually wanted Fat Jack's, he was just quiet about it, so with Finn that makes two for pizza to Puck's one for Chinese. Maybe he shouldn't, because maybe it really is as simple as Kurt makes it out to be. Either way, Blaine isn't sure he wants the answer.

\--------

Breaking into a house is easy; Puck's been doing it since he was eight. He'd borrowed Finn's Power Ranger pterodactyl thing (like he was going to ask his mom for a _pink_ toy, but Megazord did look pretty lame with a scooped-out chest) "for a week," he said, and as soon as that week was up, he walked the whole way to Finn's house to return it. But then nobody answered the door and he was supposed to go to swimming lessons in a couple hours. It was now or never. Or tomorrow, but tomorrow was practically the same as never. No way was he going to be a bad friend.

Finn's windows slides up as soon as Puck presses, and he grins. Just like old times. Finn never changes. It's a tight squeeze to get his shoulders in, but after that he gracefully tumbles through and gracefully lands on his forehead in a pile of dirty clothes. He comes up spitting. He's still got the game case in hand, though, and it's not snapped in half, so score one for him.

Puck tosses the game onto Finn's pillow - if his fat head breaks it, it's not Puck's problem anymore - and is just about to leave when something stops him. It's a weird hitching sound, and it tightens up his shoulders, sets his teeth on edge. Someone's crying.

Maybe he's been a big brother too long, but now that he's heard it, he can't just leave.

There can't be anything wrong with Mrs. H, right? Finn would tell him if some medical crap was going on; plus, she's got a real deal Mr. H and Kurt looking out for her.

As soon as he thinks it, he knows. Kurt's door opens without a squeak. Sure enough, the guy's sitting at his computer, a game of solitaire idle on the screen and his face buried in his hands.

Puck clears his throat. "You, uh... I rang the doorbell."

For a few seconds, Kurt just pants, his eyes wide and one hand pressed white against the base of his throat, but then he blinks, looks away, hides. "I wasn't feeling much like company."

"Dude, what's-"

"What are you doing here?" Kurt snaps. "If you want to bully me, have at it. I don't care."

Puck winces. "I'm not that guy anymore."

"I... I know." Shaking his head, Kurt pushes floppy bangs out of his face and takes a slow breath. "Sorry."

"I was just returning some stuff Finn lent me," Puck says, and it sounds so _stupid_ that Kurt has to know it's true.

Kurt laughs at that. "You're on the wrong floor."

"I don't think so."

They stay silent for a while, Puck staring, Kurt evading, but eventually Kurt gives in and his whole frame crumbles as he says, "I broke up with Blaine."

Puck's so surprised that he blurts out, "Really?" without thinking.

"Really. I..." Kurt bites his lip red and twists his hands in his lap. "I thought I was in love with him, but he wasn't in love with me, and now he thinks he's in love with me, but I..." Puck waits for him to finish, but from the way Kurt's head tilts forward, like it's too heavy for his neck, he doesn't think he will. "I don't know," Kurt says, his voice pinched and high.

He looks like he's going to cry again, and Puck doesn't know what to do. Kurt isn't Sarah; he can't ruffle his hair to make him shriek, tickle him until the tears aren't from sadness, or turn on Dora the Explorer and just hope he'll get distracted enough to forget what was wrong.

"Jack of Spades."

Kurt blinks in surprise, and honestly, Puck's kind of surprised too. Cautious, Kurt says, "What are you-"

Puck cuts in to repeat, "Jack of Spades," then waves in the general direction of the computer monitor. "You can put him on the Queen of Hearts over there."

Kurt moves slowly then, slowly pulls his eyes away from Puck, slowly pivots to face the screen, slowly laughs, "You're right."

"Of course I am," Puck says with no bite. Kurt scoots his chair to the left, leaving the mouse exposed. With a grin (score two for him today), Puck steps up and starts clicking.

\--------

They're starting the last lap of Rainbow Road and Kurt's blue turtle shell has just decimated the Kongs when Puck says it.

"He's Bowser."

Kurt frowns. "I'm fairly certain those were monkeys."

Their cart veers dangerously close to the railless abyss and when Kurt risks a glance at Puck, his face is crunched up. "Bowser kidnaps Peach all the time," Puck says, "and it's not some powerplay act, because her kingdom's all smiley crap and clouds that look like teeth, while his has badass lava, dinosaurs, freaking flying nerds that throw spikey dudes at you-"

"You're drifting," Kurt says.

Puck pushes the controller hard to the left. "Bowser kidnaps Peach because he's in love with her."

Kurt's breath catches in his throat then. He stares at the screen, watches Mario veer through crystals and Peach ride idle on the back of the cart, tries not to think, and only starts out of it when Puck hollers, "Throw that shell!"

Kurt does; it catches Luigi and Daisy, and they cruise past the rolling wreck.

"Anyway-"

"Puck, don't," Kurt warns.

"I've gotta. Someone's gotta say it." Kurt doesn't object again, and Puck continues, "Bowser says he's all in love with Peach, but he's not, because if you're in love with someone you wouldn't keep stealing them away from their home and their friends, and you wouldn't try to make them like everyone else."

Kurt chuckles, hollow. "Before we... he kept telling me to tone it down, and... he told me I wasn't sexy."

"See?" Puck barks. "That's what I'm talking about. Dude's not in love with... Peach; he just thinks he is. He only loves his messed up version of her. She's better off without him."

Toad and Toadette edge them out for first place, but Mario and Peach still celebrate. "Just to be perfectly clear," Kurt says (and he hides his sniffle in a haughty sniff), "you're saying I'm a girl in this scenario, correct?"

"If the shoe fits, Princess."

\--------

"'Sup?"

"Hello. Um. Is everything okay?"

"Course it is."

"Oh."

A sigh. "Look, I know I'm running late today, but I swear I'll come over tonight. I've got this awesome shooter you're going to hate and-"

A female voice whines from somewhere close to the receiver.

"Noah?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I interrupting something? Something that I definitely don't want to hear details about?"

"What? No! Dude! That's my sister!"

"Well, you can't blame me for-"

"New man, remember?"

"Old habits die hard."

"Die hard with a vengeance."

"Is your sister okay?"

"... Yeah, she's just a brat."

"Noah."

"Ugh. She found out I was playing video games with you and got all jealous."

"So you _do_ have a heart."

"Except I want to hit her because she keeps asking for Zelda. I hate that game."

There's a choked noise of disgust struggling to break loose; Kurt swallows it. "How in the world could you possible hate the Legend of Zelda?"

"I dunno. It's boring."

"... Tell you what. Let me play it for her. Unlike you, I have an appreciation for games that don't include 'running out of time' music."

"Seriously? Thanks, Princess!"

"I'm not doing it for you, Noah. I'm doing it to make sure your sister knows there's more to life than Mario."

"What's wrong with Mario?"

"Not the point."

"No, if you think there's something wrong with Mario, I-"

"I'll be over in ten."

\--------

Puck's never been a poetic guy. It's just not his style. All the "ere"s and "oer"s sound stupid, and anyone who describes a color with more than one syllable is trying too hard. So it hits him pretty hard when he pauses behind a tree to catch his breath and peeks out at the rest of the yard.

Sarah's grinning hard, smile dotted black where the grown-up teeth haven't come in yet and dark hair bleached with red from the sun, and running as fast as her gangly legs will carry her. A few feet ahead of her, Kurt runs, laughing. His floaty scarf thing keeps breezing up over his face, narrowing him down to blue (one syllable - not poetic) eyes and the pale bridge of his nose. He stumbles over a tree root, and he doesn't fall, but the break in pace is enough to let Sarah catch up and smack him on the back. She takes off in the opposite direction, shrieking. Kurt falls back against the tree and pants.

"Does she ever run out of batteries?"

Puck watches her duck behind a bush, one sock-covered foot smudged with dirt sticking out past the leaves. "I warned you."

"So you did. Here." With expert ease, Kurt unknots and unwinds his scarf, folds it in thirds, and presses it into Puck's hands. "Hold this. I'll be back in a minute."

Then he sprints off towards the bush, and Sarah yelps and takes off again. Kurt runs like a pro, arms pumping, legs smooth, cheeks flushed and breathing measured (this is still not poetic). Typically Puck relies on a burst-of-manly-strength tackle to catch Sarah, but Kurt. Kurt's gonna get to her and be able to spin right around and run away again, all long legs and flying hair.

They're nearing Puck's tree again, Sarah outpacing Kurt by mere millimeters. Puck takes one more deep breath, then pushes off the tree and joins in.

\--------

"Boom! Headshot!" Puck crows. Finn bumps his outstretched fist.

"I don't understand the appeal of this," Kurt huffs. "There's barely any point, no real aesthetic flair-"

"And you are getting your _ass_ kicked," Puck says as he fires on Kurt's character from a few feet away.

"And this controller's awkward," Kurt finishes lamely.

"Excuses."

"N64 has the best controllers," Finn says, and he fist-bumps Puck again.

"You're just used to it," Kurt hisses. "If this were on SNES, I'd be destroying STOP IT."

"Not me," Puck says as Kurt's character falls.

"Judas! My own brother!"

Finn rounds a corner and starts trading rounds with Puck. "You were open."

"I see."

Kurt goes quiet. Finn's searching for some armor and maybe an RC-P90 if he's lucky, because Puck just will not die, when a bullet hits him from behind. It's not a neat kill, but it's just enough to drain what's left of his health bar.

"Nicely done, Padawan!" Puck puts up his hand. On a normal day, Kurt would probably roll his eyes and ignore him, Finn thinks. Although on a normal day, Kurt would probably be ignoring both of them to powder his nose. Or something. It's a double surprise when Kurt high-fives Puck with a smirk.

"I still think the controller's awkward," Kurt says, smug, "but I suppose it'll get the job done."

Definitely not normal, but as Finn looks at his best friend and his brother happily playing games with him, he decides that it's pretty cool.

\--------

On the seventh ring - he's been counting - Kurt storms down the stairs and throws an angry glare at Finn. "What in the world is going on down here?"

"I don't know!" Finn says, eyebrows screwed up, exasperated. "The doorbell keeps ringing, but when I get there, there's no one!"

"Did you ever consider disconnecting it?"

"Huh?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Nevermind. I'll handle this." He steps outside and delicately prods at the button. No visible damage; nothing wedged inside that's readily apparent. He looks out across the lawn, forebodingly shiny and littered with pockets of muddy rain water, then down at his brand new Lanvin ankle boots. With a sigh, Kurt starts picking his way out to the tool shed. Before he can even begin wracking his brain for the combo to the padlock on the door (and wondering if they even _have_ any wirecutters or electrical tape), he's stopped by a rustle. And a chuckle.

In the bushes by the side of his house, hiding and laughing, muffled through closed lips like a misbehaving child, is Noah Puckerman.

"This is a whole new level of pathetic," Kurt says.

Puck stares up at him, caught, and then starts gesturing wildly. "Dude, get over here," he whispers. "Don't let Nardhead see you!"

Against his better judgment, Kurt walks over and stands in front of Puck. "I'm assuming that charming nickname refers to Finn."

"Of course," Puck says.

"Doesn't explain why you had to disrupt our family's peace."

"Didn't even know you were home. Anyway, it's tradition."

Kurt waits.

"Goes like this - every summer, I pick one day when I know his ma's gonna be out and ding dong ditch Finn for two hours straight. Been doing this since we were ten."

"And Finn knows about this tradition?"

Puck bursts into laughter. "That's the best part! He's never figured it out!"

"I could call the cops on you, you know."

"You won't."

Kurt tilts his head skyward and exhales with as much pain and regality as he can muster. "I couldn't find the proper tools to disconnect the doorbell, so I'm running to Dad's garage to get them. I might get stuck in traffic. Run into friends. Stick around and do some easy work. It could take me hours to get back."

Teeth bared in a grin, Puck absolutely lights up. "You are the _best_ , Kurt!"

Puck's still smiling as Kurt strides away. Kurt does his very best to not smile back.

\--------

Mercedes did not know she was signing up for a triple date. It was just supposed to be her and her boos, and then they'd run into Sam and he could join them for lunch, but that's it. No pairing off, no card games, definitely no weird discoveries about her best friend and one of the jerks who used to bully him.

Okay. Back up.

Things had gone wrong from the very beginning; Kurt got to her place with Rachel in tow, which, yeah, hurt a little, but Rachel's house was closer to his, so whatever. Not a real problem. The problem was the jolly green giant taking up half the backseat.

"Kurt?" Mercedes said, eyeing every person in the car like they were pod people. "Honey? I thought this was a girl trip."

Kurt shook his head. He looked exhausted already.

"Oh, it still is!" Rachel chirped from the backseat. "I just thought it would be nice to have Finn along so Kurt could have company while we're in the ladies' dressing rooms." She looped her arm through Finn's, squeezing tight enough to make him grimace.

Mercedes slipped into the passenger's seat with a sigh. "I knew them dating again would lead to this."

"It's not all bad," Kurt said. "We can make him carry our bags."

Around noon, Mercedes started to worry. They were heading towards the food court, and she knew Sam would wander out of FYE at any moment and, after the obligatory small talk, Rachel, out of the goodness of the gold star she had in place of a heart, would invite him along to lunch with them. Kurt and Sam get along fine, so Mercedes hadn't felt bad about the plan initially. With their tagalong, though, it would lead to RachelandFinn and kind-of-MercedesandSam and... Kurt. That's not something you should do to a friend.

Before she could come up with an alternative, Sam was waving and jogging towards them. "Hey man! Rachel, Kurt, Cedey," he said with a grin, and she could hear the silent 'milady' he held back after her name. "What are you guys up to?"

"Hey guys," Finn said. That's when Mercedes finally noticed Sam wasn't alone.

"'Sup?" Puck said with a head jerk. "Keeping all the ladies to yourself?"

Kurt groaned and covered his eyes.

It was easy enough for them to migrate towards the food court. History or not, they're all gleeks together. That's enough. Well, it seemed to be enough for Kurt, so that made it enough for Mercedes. Puck and Finn were still in line at Burger King and Rachel at some Mediterranean place when she and Kurt had gotten their wraps, so they set out to look for a table. From the far corner of the dining area, Sam waved at them. He had nothing in front of him, and Mercedes frowned, but she still squeezed his hand under the table as she slid in next to him. With Kurt picking at his food and rambling about the latest Vogue at her other side, Mercedes let herself focus on the fingers between hers, the soft shy smile aimed her way every time she dared to look. She was so lost that she jumped when Puck slammed a burger down in front of Sam.

"Eat up."

Sam gaped up at him, mouth open like a... trout. "I can't accept this."

Finn sat down across from Sam, his own bag of food in hand, and nodded towards the still wrapped burger. "C'mon, man. We're friends. Let us help out."

It looked like Sam was going to object, but Puck just glared at him. Sam snapped his mouth shut and started to unwrap.

It was weird. Mercedes knew Puck and Kurt had been hanging out, just like she knew Puck and Sam had been, but she really thought it was just because of Finn. She got the Sam thing, because he and Puck are both secret dorks and they like to shout Star Wars quotes at each other, but Kurt... that's beyond her. Obviously, she's aware of what someone could see in Kurt, and she guessed she got what someone could see in Puck (considering they technically dated and all), but...

It didn't make sense while they ate. It didn't make sense while they compared purchases afterwards. It didn't even make sense when Kurt suggested they play a hand of Uno with the deck Puck just bought (which she'll later find out will be "accidentally" left at Sam's motel room because Stacy told Puck all about how much she loves Uno last time he was over there). It only starts to make sense when Puck plays a Draw 2 card against Kurt.

Kurt narrows his eyes. "Really? You know, I have a Draw 4 I could've used on you two turns ago."

"Shoulda done it."

When his turn rolls around again, Kurt says, "Maybe I'll get a chance to use that Draw 4 on you after all," and slaps down a Reverse card.

Puck does likewise. "Maybe you won't."

Kurt lays down yet another Reverse. "I can do this all day, Puckerman."

One more from Puck. "Bring it on, Princess."

Kurt presses one last Reverse card down and Puck grunts. "Let's see it, Noah," Kurt coos. "Where's your Reverse?"

"Shut it," Puck snips, but he's smiling a little and looking at Kurt like he's something fascinating.

That's when Mercedes gets really confused, because she can look at Rachel and Finn and recognize the spark, and she knows there's something with her and her Sam, and then there it is with them too. Kurt and Puck. They're not openly dating or anything, but neither are she and Sam; at this point, she's pretty good at picking up on subtle cues. She thought Kurt was too. Maybe this is why he hasn't caught on yet. Maybe he's been so distracted with his own secret romance that he doesn't have eyes for anyone's actions but Puck's.

Maybe they're not dating. Maybe they haven't even held hands or anything. There's still that spark there, though, and that you can't fight. She knows where this, sooner or later, is going to lead.

If she wasn't already sitting, she thinks she'd need to sit down.

\--------

Puck's in serious trouble.

He goes to the arcade with Tina and Mike sometimes. He likes those cop games where you dodge in real life and it works in the game. And racing sims - those games are the shit. Who cares if he plays DDR from time to time? Mike's so good at it that he makes the machine and everyone around it look cool, and Tina... Tina's female. Females have certain attributes that make watching them bounce around pretty awesome. Puck will never turn down a free show.

So he plays DDR every once in a while. He's not very good at it, but it is fun, and Mike's badass enough to finish any routine, so Puck gets free reign over song choice. It's fun. Embarrassing, but fun.

He kind of forgets about that when Tina's nagging at Kurt to tag along. Puck spilled the beans on Kurt's gamer cred about a week back, and Tina immediately latched onto the idea of rounding out the group. There's nothing better than filling all four stations on a fighter, after all. Lost in the glory of possibly _finally_ having a Raphael on the TMNT machine, Puck backs her up. "It'll be great," he says. "Trust me."

And it is great for a while. When Tina and Mike take off to play bass fishing (they love that crap, and Puck doesn't get it; maybe it's an Asian thing), Puck has someone to cover him while he reloads. Today, those zombies are gonna show no mercy.

Wait. Be shown no mercy.

Today, those zombies are gonna be shown no mercy.

DDR is the problem. DDR's _always_ the freaking problem. Only two pads, so someone's always left out. Mike tries to wave Puck on with him, but Puck holds his palms up. No way is he going up there and looking like an idiot right off the bat; Tina can take that fall. She and Mike start their traditional warm-up (Puck knows it's called Dynamite Rave only because some dude shouts it) and Kurt leans in to ask, "You really play this?"

"Hell yeah," Puck says, because it's not lame if you sound tough when you say it. "It's pretty great."

Kurt hums then, a quiet little thinking noise. When the song's done, Kurt says, "Are there any easier songs?"

Grinning, Mike taps the difficulty on his pad down and leaps off while Tina pulls Kurt up beside her. "Start with a two footer," Mike hollers over the bass beat.

The song Tina picks is bouncy and sweet. It's also really fast. Puck's not sure what she was thinking until he sees Kurt's step chart scroll up at half, no, _quarter_ tempo. Then he laughs.

Mike's elbow lands in his side at the same moment Kurt and Tina snap, "Quiet!" in unison.

It's surprisingly fun to watch Kurt dance. He's focused, his tongue prodding his cheek from the inside, arms out and hands flexed like he's almost off-balance. When the song ends, he bumps Tina's shoulder with his and laughs giddily. "Okay," he says, "what else should we do?"

Before he knows what's happening, Puck's become Kurt's official coat rack. The second song sees him holding Kurt's messenger bag; the third, his jacket. The vest comes off after that, and Kurt unbuttons his cuffs and neatly rolls up his sleeves. He has a knack for this. Should've known from those Cheerios routines that Kurt had it in him. Soon enough, Mike's dancing on the carpet beside the machine and Tina and Kurt are hopping in synchrony.

That's when Puck realizes it.

He consciously tries to look at Tina and appreciate the slight heft of her breasts, but his eyes slip right back to Kurt. To those slim hips and the flash of milky skin he can catch when Kurt jumps just right to make his shirt flap up. He has his hands hovering by his chest, fisting tight when the steps get too quick, shoving his hair back periodically when they're slower. The arcade must be too hot, because his cheeks are smeared pink, his forehead's shiny, and his hair's coming loose from its sprayed-in style and _damnit_ Puck feels too hot. It's gotta be too hot.

In between songs, Kurt flashes Puck a breathless smile. His lips are red, bitten while he was dancing. And yeah, Puck noticed, and yeah. He's screwed.

\--------

"Porcelain!" Santana shouts. "Truth or dare?"

Kurt jumps so hard he almost falls off his perch on the edge of Rachel's stage. He almost loses it afterwards too, when he sways the other way too much, but Mercedes catches his arm and hauls him upright. Puck smirks; making Finn the designated driver was an awesome idea.

Kurt giggles and bats at Mercedes's hands, then says, "Truth," with way too much tongue.

"If you had to sleep with a girl," Santana starts, and Brittany grabs her arm.

"You'd pick me, right?"

"I'm asking Kurt."

Brittany leans her head on Santana's shoulder. "I'd pick you, San."

"I'd pick Santana too," Kurt says. His voice is thick, like he's rolling the words around before he voices them, and he adds, "Evil's great in bed. Isn't that what they say?"

"Who is 'they'?" Mercedes asks.

Kurt shakes his head and starts looking around the room. Smirking, Puck catches his gaze and holds it. This should be good.

"Noah," Kurt exhales. "Truth or dare?"

Normally, Puck thinks picking truth is for wusses, but this time, it's the only choice. Without even knowing it, Santana set him up perfectly. Kurt's way too sloshed to think of something original. He's gonna go with the "which guy?" question, and if he doesn't like Puck's answer? Booze is a good excuse. Hell, Kurt might not even remember it in the morning if he plays it off like a joke. It's win/win.

"Truth." Puck tips his beer back and practices in his head the best way to say Kurt's name.

"If you had to," Kurt says with too much emphasis, and he pauses to shake a clingy Rachel off his arm. "If you had to," he tries again, "what song would you serenade Rachel with?"

Rachel shrieks and tackles Kurt to the ground. Somewhere in his haze of confusion and just a bit of alcohol, Puck actually tries to come up with an answer. When he sees Rachel straddle Kurt's slim waist and start attacking his stomach with tickling fingers, he gives up and hops off the couch in search of something stronger than beer.

\--------

"I suggest that it was Professor Plum with the-"

"Oh for crying out loud," Kurt snaps. "You haven't _suggested_ anyone else, not a single other person, for the entire game."

Puck taps his pencil against his detective pad and dodges Kurt's look. "I have my reasons."

"Kid," Burt says, sharp, "you gonna finish your statement?"

"Professor Plum-"

"What will it take to end this?" Kurt says.

Eyebrows raised, Puck laughs. "Are you trying to bribe me?"

"I'm trying to keep the game from being stalled by your idiocy."

"Guys," Finn says. Carole presses her lips together and tries not to laugh.

Puck meets Kurt's eyes then, stares him down for a second, and when he doesn't budge, Puck asks, "What are you offering?"

"I will show you every single card in my hand if you refrain from accusing me for the rest of the game."

"Hey," Burt says. "That doesn't sound particularly fair to the rest of us."

Kurt just keeps his glare locked on Puck. "Take it or leave it."

"One condition." Puck cracks his knuckles and grins. "I get to finish this statement like I was going to before."

"Fine."

"Alright, Professor Plum." He plunks the purple token down next to his blue one. "Rope. Conservatory. Mr. H?"

Burt flips through his cards twice before he says, "I actually don't have anything against that."

Puck looks at Carole and she shrugs. "I can't disprove it."

With a frown, Finn says, "I got nothing."

"You can't be serious," Kurt splutters. "Are all of you completely serious?!"

Puck scoops up the case file envelope with the faintest of smirks.

\--------

Kissing Lauren isn't so bad. It's a little like kissing Brittany was - soft, slightly wet, pleasant in an insulated way. He pulls back and everyone's watching for his reaction. Finn seems mildly disturbed. So does Noah. That one worries him; he knows Noah isn't going to punch him or anything, but they've built a pretty amazing friendship lately, and he's not sure how fragile it is. Kissing Noah's ex can't be earning him any brownie points, and this thing between them is not worth losing over some ridiculous party game.

"Wow." Lauren's voice snaps Kurt back to the here and now, and she gives him an impressed smile and nods. "Now _that's_ how you kiss. Puckerman, you could learn a thing or two from him."

Kurt suppresses a cringe and reaches for the bottle, but Lauren's hand on his wrist stops him.

"I mean it, Puck," she says. "Kiss him."

Suddenly clammy, Kurt lets out a nervous laugh. "I think I'll kiss whoever the bottle lands on, thanks."

"Except me," Finn blurts.

"Except Finn."

Lauren stares at Noah for a minute, watches him squirm silently and avoid her gaze, before she releases Kurt's wrist and sits back. "Suit yourself. You're missing out on a real learning experience here."

With mentally crossed fingers, Kurt spins the bottle. It teeters to a stop pointing directly at Noah.

It's one thing for a straight guy to be friends with the gay kid. As far as Noah's concerned, Kurt thinks, gay could just mean "fixated on fashion" or "has a high voice". He hasn't had to face any of the physical realities of what being gay actually means (Kurt neatly skips over the part where Noah comforted him after he broke up with his boyfriend. He didn't actually deal with Blaine; it could've just as easily been a girl Kurt had been dating.). As long as Noah doesn't have to actually see Kurt's orientation, he won't freak out. They can keep being friends. It won't go the way the Finn thing did.

Lauren's applauding and Mercedes and Tina are rapt and Finn looks horrified. Noah rolls his eyes. "C'mon," he says, pushing himself up onto his knees and leaning towards Kurt. "Let's do this."

"You don't have to," Kurt says quietly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Then Noah's lips are on his and Kurt can't think. This is the third boy who's kissed him, and they've all felt different, but if he had to make a comparison, he'd say it's like the first time he and Blaine kissed. There, he was all adrenaline, the pining and the hoping surging out in one blissful touch. He doesn't know where the high is coming from this time; he finds Noah attractive, and maybe he's thought about him a few (too many) times in inappropriate ways, but it was never real. He never anticipated any sort of reality in it. Noah's a good friend, maybe even one of his best friends, and Kurt's always assumed that friends would make the best lovers, but... he's Noah. He's _Puck_. That's not the form Kurt imagines Prince Charming would take.

Noah shifts against him, and without thinking, Kurt tentatively laps at him. The rasp of stubble against his upper lip is amazing, almost painfully rough compared to the give of Noah's mouth. A hand lands on his neck, gives a few clumsy pets, then slips back to pull him in closer. Kurt's about to... he's not even sure what, but do _something_ to make Noah's lips part under his, when a catcall breaks the spell.

"I told you!" Lauren says, clapping. "You see? Awesome kisser. You can thank me later."

Noah just looks at him, dazed, eyes cloudy and mouth open. It takes all of Kurt's carefully groomed composure to not go in for another kiss. Suddenly, Noah literally shakes out of it and sits back on his heels. "Yeah," he says, and Kurt wants to _feel_ the rumble of those words in Noah's throat. "Yeah, thanks."

Finn's knuckles are white against the knees of his jeans - Kurt can see it out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't let himself look at any other reactions. "Well," he says carefully, "this has been a lovely evening, but I'm afraid I need to leave and... leave."

Before anyone can stop him, he does just that.

Mercedes texts him about a thousand times that night, asking if he's okay and if there's some reason she should be castrating Puck. Finn even stops by his room, Rachel in tow, to make sure he's not too upset. He's not quite sure what they think there is to be upset about, but he fakes like he's not anyway. It works well enough.

Noah texts him once. It says, 'my house 2moro plz?"

Kurt goes to bed repeating to himself over and over that he should know better than anyone what a bad idea it is to fall for straight boys. No matter how many times he says it, it doesn't make the tingle on his lips go away. He's almost masochistically pleased that it doesn't.

\--------

"Puck."

Puck nearly drops his controller at the sound of that voice. "Kurt. I didn't. Uh. When'd you get here?"

"Just a minute ago. Sarah let me in." Taking a cautious seat on the far end of the couch, Kurt looks at the screen and says in a sigh, "Why am I not surprised?"

"What?"

Bayonetta summons a chainsaw, and as the angels dissolve in front of her, Kurt waves at the image. "Refueling your testosterone with scantily clad women."

Puck chuckles and pauses the game. "You want me to switch to Devil May Cry? I just wanted something to keep me busy, and Dante's pretty hot too."

Kurt freezes so quick that Puck thinks the temperature in the room dropped about 10 degrees. "Dante?"

"Yeah. Dante. Built dude, good hair, nice abs." Puck shrugs. "Not my usual type, but decent enough to look at."

"Puck."

"Noah."

" _Puck_."

"I kinda... liked it when you didn't call me that."

Kurt's jaw wobbles then; Puck takes a deep breath and swivels to face him. "Noah," Kurt says, slow, like he's tip-toeing. "What are you trying to say to me?"

Puck juggles the idle controller between his hands. "I guess. Uh. That I liked it. Last night."

"You're not gay."

Puck snorts. "No duh."

"But you-"

"Not gay doesn't mean not not straight."

"Noah."

"The whole kiss thing was awesome."

Before Puck can do anything to stop it, Kurt's laughing and his eyes have gone super watery. "I thought you were going to hate me."

"Hey." Puck punches Kurt's arm lightly. "I could never hate one of my boys."

Kurt laughs again, dabbing absently at his eyes, and then falls quiet. After a minute, he takes a deep shaking breath and says, "Could we... would you want to do it again?"

This time, Puck does drop the controller. "Really?"

"You're right, it was... it was awesome." Kurt's hair looks perfect, but he pushes at it anyway, and Puck has to resist the urge to pull his hand away. "I'd like to try again," Kurt continues, blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck. "Only if you want to, of course."

Puck decides to respond to that by giving in; he takes Kurt's hand away from his hair, closes it in his own hand, and kisses him. And this time, if Kurt decides to lick him, he knows he won't sit there dumb. He knows he'll do it right back.

\--------

"Sarah loaned me an interesting game."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Final Fantasy."

"..."

"Noah?"

"Yeah, I'm here... The GBA one?"

"Mm hmm."

"You, uh, you erase the old file?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Fuck."

"So would you mind explaining to me why the big strong warrior is named Noah and the pretty little girl is named Kurt?"

"Okay, first off, that's Sarah's file. I don't play those games."

"Of course."

"Second, white mage is not a chick. He just looks like one."

"That's much more flattering."

"And that's only at first - once he becomes a white wizard, the dudeness is way more obvious. Anyway, white mages are badass! They're pretty useless for damage, but if your damage dealers are all dead, they're pretty useless too."

"You know an awful lot for someone who 'doesn't play those games'."

"Be a dick. Whatever. I'm just trying to explain that it's not an insult."

"Point taken."

"Seriously, warriors are nothing without white mages."

"Oh. _Oh_."

"What? What'd I mess up now?"

"... Absolutely nothing."

\--------

When she wears a jean jacket out to dinner and Kurt doesn't even bat an eye, Carole knows. She's suspected it for a while - ever since she came home to find Kurt and Noah watching cartoons together with Finn nowhere in sight - but intuition isn't infallible. She's always thought Noah's delinquency and womanizing were side effects of what his father's leaving did to him and not who he really is, though she hadn't considered that they might be a bit of a cover as well until he started spending time with Kurt. Either way, she's certain there's someone wonderful in Puck. It will just take the right person to coax it out. As for Kurt, he's an amazing boy, but he needs someone to keep him on his toes and not let him call all the shots. Carole really thinks they could be good for each other.

She doesn't tell Burt this, of course, because he was bothered enough by Blaine, and he was completely harmless. When Kurt feels like talking to them, she'll feign surprise for Burt's sake and be the sounding board for his concerns. She'll counter them very gently; she's known Noah practically his entire life, after all. Carole can find the good in him. She thinks about this, and every time she worries she's getting ahead of herself, she sees something, a shared look, a smack on the arm, a bump of shoulders, that reaffirms her beliefs.

It takes the jean jacket to cement in her head that she's right. It takes Pictionary after dinner a few days later to make it real. Kurt's falling against her side, laughing so hard there are tears leaking out at the corners of his squinted eyes. She wraps an arm around him, and Burt grouses, "What's so funny?"

"C'mon," Noah says. "This is obvious."

The drawing on the paper in front of them is rough. Carole's best guess would be a baseball glove, but Finn's already guessed both that and football helmet without success.

"Okay," Kurt gasps between laughs, "okay, okay, okay. Pom poms."

Puck holds out a hand for a high-five and Kurt slaps it. "Your turn," he says as he tosses the marker to Finn.

"What the hell, dude?" Finn stares at the paper like maybe it will start explaining itself soon. "That doesn't look anything like pom poms."

Puck grins. "Course not. It's a baseball glove."

That sets Kurt off again, shaking his head as if he could knock the inside joke loose and make it stop, and this time Carole hugs him to her and laughs right along. She loves it when she's right.

\--------

"Would you rather give Quinn or Brittany a makeover?"

Kurt hums thoughtfully for a moment, then turns back to Mercedes's nails. "Quinn. Odd though she may be, Brittany manages to be a trendsetter in her own way."

Rachel glares, but Kurt ignores her and says, "Would you rather go without make-up or moisturizer?"

"Baby, you're killing me," Mercedes groans. "Alright, make-up. At least my skin won't hate me that way."

"That's my girl."

Mercedes gives Kurt her left hand and holds up her right to admire the freshly painted (purple tipped with gold glitter) nails. "This one goes for both of you," she says. "Would you rather go clothes shopping with Finn or Puck?"

The top coat brush slips over Mercedes's cuticle, and Kurt can only hope she didn't notice. He tries to cover the tension with a heavy sigh. "Since I've experienced the horror of trying to talk fashion with Finn but not Puck, I suppose I'll have to pick the lesser of two evils."

"Really?" Rachel looks at him like he's crazy. "I mean, I'd of course pick Finn because he _is_ my boyfriend, but even if he wasn't... it's not like either of them can tell Prada from Proenza-"

He might be in fight-or-flight mode, but Kurt still manages to be proud.

"-But at least Finn would be... nicer about it."

Kurt shrugs and does his best to feign nonchalance. "Like I said, I wouldn't know."

Giving him a horrible side-eye that's sure to crease her eyeshadow, Mercedes says, "So you're still picking Puck?"

"Not like I'm pleased about it."

"But you're picking him."

"Can we just not talk about Puck for five minutes?"

"Sorry," Rachel says carefully. "I know you're probably still uncomfortable about kissing him."

"Oh. My god."

"We're just confused," she continues. "Noah's the last person I would've expected to... to..."

"That's it," Kurt says, twisting the bottle of top coat closed so tight the cap creaks. "I'm going to go get some water. When I come back, we're starting over with no Puck."

He's only managed to get two steps away from his room when he runs straight into Noah. Noah, who calmly and quietly asks, "Would you really pick me over Finn?"

Kurt glances to make sure he closed the door when he left, then hisses, "Were you _eavesdropping_?"

"Nah, I was just heading to the kitchen for a Coke."

"Which is downstairs, same floor as the living room in which I last saw you watching football."

"... Okay, so I wasn't going to the kitchen."

"You _were_ eavesdropping!" Kurt pushes past him and stomps down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Babe," Noah says, and when Kurt _glowers_ , he tries again. "Kurt, I just kinda wanted to maybe see you."

"I don't have time to... to fool around right now, Noah." Kurt rummages through the cabinet for a cup that isn't made of neon plastic.

"Not like that! Like, with my eyes see you."

The faucet's on, but Kurt's stuck with the glass in his hand only halfway into the sink. "You wanted to literally see me?"

Puck jams his hands in his pockets and looks away. "It's stupid, but I'm still new to this dating thing, and I." His voice drops to a mumble. "I just like being around you, okay?"

Kurt shuts the water off. "We're dating?"

"Look, I know kissing isn't dating or anything, but you kinda got in my head. I figure we already spend pretty much all the time together, and I'm gonna be having dinner with you and playing games and stuff no matter what, and if that plus the making out part isn't dating then I have no idea what is, so what's it gonna hurt to just 'make it official' or whatever?" Noah risks a glance at Kurt then, who's sure he's gaping unattractively, but Noah doesn't seem put off; instead, he says, "Do you want to?"

It takes a moment for all the words to reach Kurt's brain, and then another moment to process them, make sure they're all English and they really mean what they seem to mean. Kurt bites the inside of his upper lip to keep from shrieking and embarrassing himself. "Would you rather cook me dinner or order in?"

"Wha?"

"For our first date."

Puck blinks at him, then grabs his hand and asks, "Is that a yes?"

Running his other hand over that stupid, adorably stupid mohawk, Kurt leans in to kiss his boyfriend.

When Kurt returns to his bedroom with not just his water, but also a bowl of painfully yellow, decidedly not low-fat popcorn in hand and a ridiculous amount of pink staining his smile-stretched cheeks, Rachel and Mercedes share a look, but say nothing.

\--------

Puck really doesn't like people watching him play video games. He makes an exception for Sarah, mostly because he can't find any way to stop her, but besides her? Everyone needs to get out. Multiplayer games are cool; people just worry about their own skills. Nobody's checking out his technique and trying to tell him what he should be doing.

"You know, there's an easier way to fight them, I think," Kurt says. "I'm almost certain there's a pattern."

Who cares? So what if there's a pattern? Puck already knows it - you time your hits right, they spend the whole battle rebounding and trying to get the drop on you. You can pick the bird guy off easy and deal with rage-y wing demon by himself. Strategy's a last ditch plan, though. If you can smash your way through, why not just go with that?

Puck says only, "Yeah?"

"Maybe I could try it out later. Start my own file." When Puck doesn't answer (because really, the hell did he do to deserve a hot boyfriend who wants to play Castlevania?), Kurt adds quickly, "If you wouldn't mind."

"Why would I mind, Princess?"

"Well, I know I enjoy watching you play, but the reverse..."

Puck pauses the game long enough to pull Kurt across the couch and up against his side before he starts playing again. "I think I'd like it."

\--------

There's no way they could know. That's the one thing that keeps Kurt from slamming on the brakes and making both Puck and Finn smack their heads against the front seats.

"Kansas," Puck says, and there's a loud thwack as he socks Finn in the arm.

The first time Kurt went on a field trip, he learned about slugbug. How could he not? Boys will take any excuse to wail on each other. Red cars, Beetles, out of state plates, anything that stuck out was fair game. The boy in the seat behind him tried to get him involved once, yelling out "Blue Beetle!" and slapping Kurt's forearm; Kurt twisted in on himself and stared out the bus window. When he got home, already on the verge of tears because his pale skin was sunburnt and now _bruising_ and he just didn't _get it_ , he didn't even have to explain. His mom was there.

It took him a few minutes to settle down, but eventually he was able to relay the story of slugbug, the most brainless, horrible game in the world. And she said, "Ignore those neanderthals."

It was such an unimportant, everyday moment, yet it always stuck with Kurt. Maybe he didn't understand the way "normal" male bonding worked, but what did that matter? He had his world. If it didn't include slugbug, who was anyone else to judge?

The Sunday after that, driving to church, a red Volkswagen passed them. His mom kissed her fingers, reached back over her seat to tap Kurt on the head, and declared, "Lovebug!"

Finn laughs, "Kentucky!" and when Puck coughs in pain, Kurt snaps.

"Will you two stop it?! You'd think it wouldn't be too much to ask that you refrain from physically harming each other for ten minutes, but apparently your pea-sized brains can't handle it!"

They're quiet for a few minutes, until a truck from Alabama rumbles past. Puck snickers, "Oh no, Finn. I think we have to kiss now."

Kurt does hit the brakes then. Apparently, it works - Finn and Puck are silent the rest of the way to the movie theater and all the way up to the ticket counter. As soon as the lights go down for previews, Puck's hand tries to find his in the dark. Kurt crosses his arms and leans away.

Puck asks to be dropped off at home afterwards, and Kurt understands. His world doesn't include slugbug, and it has never included neanderthals. What they're trying is a tough fit. He doesn't understand when the doorbell rings two hours later, though, and Puck is standing on the porch, looking almost penitent, a plastic-wrapped plate of cookies in his hands.

"Hey, um... here." Puck thrusts the plate at Kurt and starts to back away.

"Wait!" A quick glance reassures Kurt that he's the only one who noticed the doorbell, and he slips out onto the porch and shuts the door behind him. "Noah, I'm sorry."

"I thought that was my line."

"It's not... you didn't do anything wrong. Annoying, of course, but not really wrong."

"Oh. Oh, man." Puck laughs. "I've been going _crazy_ trying to figure out what I did. I even talked to Ma, and she-"

"You talked to your _mom_ about us?"

"Not _us_ us, but... yeah. Is that okay?"

Kurt feels his shoulders melt just a bit. "Of course it is."

"Okay, cool, 'cause she's the one who told me to bring cookies."

"The way to a man's heart."

Noah shifts a little closer then, reaches out slightly like he wants to touch, but doesn't know if he's allowed to. "So... we're good?"

Kurt leans his side into Noah's hand. "I told you, you didn't do anything wrong."

Noah's thoughtful, quiet, scrutinizing the ground from beneath furrowed eyebrows, and Kurt knows what he's thinking. Something obviously went wrong this afternoon, and if it wasn't Noah, then it was Kurt. With a start, Kurt registers that Noah's _thinking_ about this. He's really thinking. He wants to figure out what happened. And if he asks about it, Kurt doesn't think he'll be able to lie. He might actually explain himself, lay his cards out there, crack open his world just a bit.

Pressing the plate of cookies back into Puck's grasp, Kurt opens the door and says, "Come on. Put those in the kitchen and let's go upstairs."

\--------

Noah's hand is halfway into his pants (and under his briefs) when Kurt says, "Wait."

Noah mutters, "Fuck," but he stops. "What's wrong?"

Oh, there are so many answers to that. Kurt settles for, "The entire Glee club is here!"

"Downstairs."

"In my house. At this moment."

Noah slides a hand down Kurt's back and cups his ass. "Down. Stairs."

Kurt's mouth is suddenly covered, swallowed in heat and panting breath, and it takes those calloused fingers grazing the side of his cock to jolt him alert again. He pushes Noah out to arm's length. Tries to, at least; Noah's fingertips are still wedged underneath the waistband of his skinny jeans, so the effort works less than perfectly, but it's enough to make him pause.

"Kurt," Noah says, licking his lips and looking utterly nervous, "if you don't want to, you can just say so."

Kurt eases up enough to let Noah's palm rest hot against his skin. He sighs, "I want to. I really do."

It's not a lie. There truly is nothing more romantic than soft kisses and barely there touches, but there's also more to relationships than romance. That's something Kurt's only come to realize in the past month or two. He's not denying that his dad was right about the effect sex can have on a person (not that he'd know about _sex_ sex, but he knows some things). It's just that there's also the part where it's fun and oddly relaxing. And he really wants all of it, the romance and the fun, with Noah. But.

"You realize I'm a guy," he blurts.

Noah raises an eyebrow at him. "I've noticed."

"In theory."

"In grinding."

Kurt flashes fiery at the memory, but he squashes it down. Have to stay focused. "That was fully clothed."

"Still hot."

"Very different from actual... touching."

The hand slips free of his waistband to drop at Noah's side. Noah frowns. "What part of 'bisexual' didn't you get?"

The 'bisexual' part. "I get that you think you are, but there's a world of difference between admiring beauty and... and..."

"Why'd you suggest Twister?"

That throws Kurt for a loop. He blinks at Noah and slowly asks, "What do you mean?"

"C'mon, Kurt. You wanted to show off. You know I think you're sexy."

"I..." He kind of does, and he did kind of want to entice. Mostly, he was hoping something like this might happen - Noah dragging him off surreptitiously to catch some alone time while everyone else is watching a movie and won't notice their absence. He didn't think he'd be the main attraction, though, not really. He just thought that if all the girls played together, and he proved that he could keep up, was equally lithe and limber... Kurt lifts his chin and looks down his nose. "Maybe I just wanted to play Twister with my friends."

He doesn't expect Noah to groan, dive into his neck, inhale, say against his skin, "Have no idea what you do to me," but that's exactly what happens. Kurt gasps. "I know, no hickies," Noah mumbles as his teeth scrape along Kurt's jaw.

"Noah," Kurt says with a trill of power (he could definitely get used to this), "you really liked the show?"

Noah pulls back enough to gape at him like he's speaking Swahili. "Are you kidding? Babe, you _killed_ me out there. Those moves..." He glances down at Kurt's denim-clad legs. "Can I?"

"Let's see." Kurt flicks at the empty air, pauses thoughtfully, then declares, "Right hand, blue."

"Hell yes," Noah says, and his hand slips down to catch Kurt's left leg behind the knee and lift.

Draping his arms over Noah's shoulders, Kurt says, "Right leg, blue." Then there's a leg between his, pressing firm; he can feel Noah, hard against his hip.

Noah hikes Kurt's leg up and around his waist, _pushes_ forward, and whispers, "C'mon, left hand, blue. Please."

Kurt's breathing too hard to pretend like he's in control anymore, but he holds on long enough to manage, "Mmm, nope. Left hand, red."

"Red?"

Kurt peels his fly open one-handed, the other clutching the back of Noah's neck, and shimmies the tight fabric down his right hip enough to reveal his briefs, all white elastic and cherry red cotton.

Mouth flopped open, Noah stares down long enough to make Kurt squirm anxiously. Then, in a surge, he kisses him wet and says, "That is so much better than blue."

Noah's palm curls tight over thin fabric; Kurt throws his head back and distantly thinks he might have been wrong about bisexuality.

\--------

Kurt is not perfect.

Noah never really thought he was, but now he's gotten the chance to see for himself. He's insecure and really sensitive if you hit him in the wrong spots; he just hides it really well. That might be the coolest bit about this thing he has with Kurt - getting to know what's underneath. He gets to literally see Kurt take off his make-up (foundation, whatever; still make-up) and he gets to see the metaphoresque stuff too. Like, if Kurt was a Cadbury creme egg, everyone else would just think he's chocolate. Only Noah gets the tasty yolk.

At the same time, though, he wishes other people knew. The yolk's really pretty. He doesn't want anyone else to taste Kurt's creme center, and okay, this metaphor business is a lot harder than it looks. The point is that Kurt's awesome. Noah wants the boyfriend parts all to himself, but there are a lot of other hidden parts he wants the world to see. Kurt Hummel puts on like he's perfect, and he's not, and that makes him so much more perfect.

Kurt fumbles his catch, and Artie yells, "My legs don't work and we're still beating you!"

"Laugh it up," Kurt grumbles as he passes the frisbee to Mike.

Mike starts making some crazy kung-fu hand gestures that Noah knows means he's gonna throw long, and Noah takes off towards Sam before he can even start falling back. It's easy to outjump him and snag the frisbee. "Sorry, Trouty," Noah says with a grin. Sam shoves him and jogs towards Finn.

Throwing to Finn would be the smart thing to do. Sure, he's got Mike, Sam, and Artie all covering him, but he's practically twice as tall as any of them. All Noah would have to do is aim high. Kurt's picking at his nails, though. Damn. Too tempting.

"Princess!" he shouts, and he sends the frisbee barreling straight towards Kurt's chest. Kurt makes a terrified grab for it, but it ricochets off his hands and into his chin before spiraling to the ground.

"You _ass_!" Kurt spits. "Do you want us to lose?!"

"You caught it once," Finn offers. Which is true. And Kurt threw it perfect after that, too, all the way to the end zone, where Finn nabbed it out of mid-air. That's the only point they're gotten this whole game.

Noah smirks. "Practice makes perfect."

With a labored sigh, Kurt picks up the frisbee and hands it off to a laughing Artie. "Next week," he says, "we'll all go to my dad's garage and work on cars. _Then_ we'll see who needs practice." Artie just laughs harder, and Kurt smacks his shoulder as he rolls away.

Kurt is not perfect. Noah thinks he's in love.

\--------

It happens when they're playing poker. Strip poker, no less, at Noah's kitchen table in his empty house, and a few weeks ago, Noah would've written it all off as a reaction to the possibility of seeing his bod in the buff. As is, he still says, "My toes have that effect on a lot of people," and finishes peeling off his sock. When he looks up, though, his lame junk hand hasn't been swept back into the deck yet, nor has Kurt's two pair. Kurt's looking straight into his eyes, face all ice and fire in equal parts, shoulders and chest pale, bare from previously lost hands. His tongue is curled out a hint to brush his upper lip.

Kurt breathes, "Noah."

Only by sheer determination does he not ask if Kurt's sure. Noah is, has been for at least two days, ever since Sarah teasingly asked him if he was going to wear the wedding dress and Noah told her that it was up to Kurt. He didn't even have to think about it, didn't slip from a hypothetical to something real. It was immediate. Kurt. No question.

Noah sucks in not enough air and says, "Look at me. Say it again."

Kurt's painted composure breaks just a little, enough to let out a wavering smile. "I love you."

Noah finds himself scrambling then, wrapping Kurt in a hug that tips his chair up sideways on only two legs and leaves Kurt clutching his back and laughing. "I love you too," he says, and he presses his palms against Kurt's naked shoulder blades and his lips into Kurt's unstyled hair.

Kurt squeezes him tighter. "Really?" And man, there's only one answer to that.

"Yeah, Princess. Really."

\--------

"I just don't understand the purpose," Kurt pouts, straining to rub some toothpaste over the bruises blotting his shoulders.

"It's fun."

"Pointless."

Noah snatches the tube away. "Let me do that, brat."

Kurt looks like he's going to protest, but Noah starts smoothing toothpaste over purpled skin with his thumbs and it gets lost in a sharp inhale. Finally, Kurt says, "Okay, paintball is fun, but it's not fun enough to be worth all of this."

"Didn't know you bruised this easy," Noah says. "We'll get you some pads before next time."

"Lovely. That won't make Lauren and Mike laugh."

Spotting another bruise, Noah shifts his hands downward. "Hey, keep sniping like you did today and you could wear a dress without them laughing." Kurt hums, arching his back almost obscenely, and Noah watches his toothpaste-smeared thumbs circle lower and lower down Kurt's spine. "How is this shit supposed to help?"

"Lessens bruising," Kurt sighs.

The minty smell should definitely not be sexy, but Noah can't stop himself from leaning forward and tasting Kurt's skin. He's salt and artificial sweet; Noah lets his hands drift and pull until Kurt's ass is flush against his hips. "Sorry," he says as he starts tugging at the buttons on Kurt's trousers.

Kurt leans against him, sticking to Noah's undershirt with sweat and spit and toothpaste, rolls his hips, and lets out a barely there, "Sorry?"

When Noah takes Kurt's chin, Kurt moves with him, tilting his head. "That paintball. Bruised your neck."

Kurt starts to pull out of his grip to look at him curiously, but Noah sinks his thumb between Kurt's lips and sucks a bite into the unmarred skin of Kurt's bared neck.

"Oooh," Kurt pants, muffled, throaty. " _That_ paintball."

Noah draws back enough to admire the faint red oval, just an innocent start of a bruise, nestled above Kurt's collarbone. "Yeah," he says, "really got you good," and he seals his mouth over the mark and gets back to work.

\--------

It starts with Kilts. Rachel doesn't go for it of course, picking instead Lemon Meringue Pie as the most Delicious card, but Kurt makes sure to catch Noah's eye when she discards it and smirk. Carole's Touchy-Feely is met with Handcuffs from Kurt (not that he'd admit it), and that gets a nice reaction. Noah's still swallowing hard as Burt gathers up the cards for Primitive. When he actually picks Leather as the winner, Kurt knows he's blushing, but so is Noah, and that makes the embarrassment most definitely worth it.

"High & Mighty," Kurt reads off his green card. The options end up being overall commendable - Elizabeth Taylor, The Godfather, Madonna. Charging Rhinos is a disappointment (and obviously played by either his dad or his brother), but that's easily matched by the obvious winner that is Boyfriends. Kurt smiles at it. Even without playing a red card, he can get under Noah's skin that little bit more.

"Well, given that I have the potential to be one," Kurt says as he lays the card down in the middle of the coffee table, "I think I'm required to choose Boyfriends."

Noah snatches up the green card and waggles it next to his grinning face. "Thanks, man. High & Mighty works for me."

Even though he knows he should play it casual and perhaps annoyed, lest his father start asking questions (which he will, later, after Noah has left, and Kurt will actually stammer through a partial confession, much to Carole's delight), Kurt laughs.

The green card Noah selects makes all the color drain from his face. "Uh," he says, "can I pick a different one?"

"No do-overs, Noah," Rachel says, and Kurt nods innocently.

"What is it?" Finn asks.

With a groan, Noah places Exciting face-up in front of him.

Oh, Kurt has this in the bag. He plays his card before anyone else, making sure to lean back nonchalantly when he's done and tilt his head just right to let the living room lamp illuminate the lingering remnants of "paintball battle scars" on his neck. He can tell the exact moment when Noah reaches his card: he fumbles in his shuffling and almost sends the whole hand flying.

"Okay," Noah says carefully, "who played the Create-a-Card?"

Smiling delicately, that pageant queen look he practiced in the bathroom room his whole childhood, Kurt raises his hand and waves.

Noah flicks the green card at him. "You win."

"No way!" Finn says. "Aren't you even gonna hear what it is first?"

"Doesn't matter."

Burt eyes him. "Really now?"

Kurt has an easy, non-incriminating answer ready to go (Football, because what Ohio boy wouldn't label that as Exciting?), but Noah speaks up before he can use it.

"Yep, really," Noah says, and he slides the card the rest of the way across without meeting Kurt's eyes. "Kurt wins this one."

"I really do," Kurt says dreamily.

The green card he draws for the next round snaps him awake, even almost makes him squeak. Down & Dirty. He catches Noah's gaze, smiles slow and wide, and lays it down without a word.

\--------

Noah hears the banging before he even enters the house and he rolls his eyes. Never should have told Sarah she could play his Rock Band set. When he fumbles the door open with grocery-laden arms, Noah catches the other half of the noise. The singing. He's hollering Kurt's name as he pushes the rest of the way into his home.

Kurt gapes at him, flushed and with saucer eyes, and yelps, "Noah!"

"Kurt!" Sarah snaps, and she bangs the drums extra hard to get his attention. "You're screwing up the song!"

From her position curled up on the far corner of the couch with a book, Noah's mom says, "Language."

"But he is! Look, he just failed out!"

"Sorry, sorry," Kurt says. She shoots him a nasty glare as she spends all her star power to bring him back, and he starts singing again, though he glances awkwardly at Noah while he does it.

Noah drops the groceries at his feet. "The hell is going on?"

"Put the food away. And _language_."

"Ma!"

"Noah!" Sarah yells. "You're messing up the vocals! Shut. Up!"

"Language!"

With a sigh, Noah collapses onto the couch next to his mom. "Okay, explain."

She peers at him sideways, then turns back to her book, pretending to be engaged even though it's that freakin' Wiesel thing she's read like eighty times. "Put the groceries away first."

He groans, but he does as he's told.

While he's hefting the (turkey) bacon up high enough to wedge it behind Sarah's box of Otter Pops in the freezer, a hand lands on his arm. Noah says without looking, "Since when are you the monkey's playdate?"

Kurt sighs. "Since you texted me this morning."

"Uh, what? I haven't texted you since last night."

"I realize that now."

"So what do you mean I texted you?"

"Where's your phone?"

"In my..." Noah pats his pocket. It's completely flat. "Shit."

Kurt nods.

It'd be easy to leave it at that, but Kurt's shifting his weight from leg to leg, setting his hips in motion, and his face is burning pink. Noah wraps an arm around his waist and presses a kiss to those bitten lips. "What'd she text you anyway?"

Noah didn't think it was possible for Kurt to blush any harder, but he proves him wrong. "I should get back to the game."

"Mmmm." Noah kisses just under Kurt's jaw. "Real slavedriver, my sis."

Kurt mumbles something in response to that, but it's broken and unintelligible, and when he slips out of Noah's arms, his quick steps back to the living room are tense. With a grin, Noah follows.

His mom doesn't bat an eye as he sinks into the couch and snags his phone off the end table. It only takes a few seconds to click through his history and find the text he's looking for.

 _i need you_

Noah busts out laughing, Kurt turns to glare at him, and Sarah throws the drumsticks down and yells, "Damnit, Noah!"

"Watch your mouth," Noah shouts back. "Right, Ma?"

She hums and brings the book a little closer to her face.

"Well," Kurt says slowly, "since your brother's here now to be your accompaniment, I think I'll take my leave."

That finally gets Noah's mom to look up. "Nonsense. I've listened to Noah yammer about this game enough to know that there's plenty of room for all of you. You just play, and when I'm done with this chapter, I'll order us some lunch."

Kurt looks simultaneously stunned and elated; Noah likes the way he wears it. "Mrs. Puckerman, you don't have to do that."

"Call me Ruth," she says, and the slip of the book back up over her eyes leaves no room for protest.

"Alright!" Sarah whoops. "This calls for a celebration! Get your axe, N-N-N-No-ah!"

"Yeah yeah," Noah says, and after he fishes the plastic guitar out from under the couch, he pauses. "Thanks, Ma."

She shrugs. "He has a lovely singing voice."

Smashing down a doofy smile into a far more manly smirk, Noah slings the guitar strap over and onto him and steps up next to Kurt. "What're we playing?"

Kurt hides his matching smile behind the mike. "Ask your sister."

Noah stares down at her and flicks the strum bar. "No Spongebob songs."

"But it's a celebration!"

"No. Spongebob."

\--------

The door to Mike's closet slots open, and for the first time in his life, Noah is disappointed to see a feminine silhouette. Then the closet is pitch black again, silent save for the quick scuff of feet crossing to lean against the coats beside him. Noah says quietly, "Find your own hiding spot."

Santana hems as if she's actually thinking about it, then says, "Mm, no. I think I like this one."

"I'm not making out with you."

"Oh, please. Like I'd sink to that again."

"Why the hell are you here?"

"Puck." She chuckles. "Puck, Puck, Puck. A little birdie told me you're batting for the other team now."

Noah freezes. "Who?"

"Is it true?"

"'M the same as I've always been."

"You've always been queer for Kurt?" Santana laughs lightly at that. "So much for my ego."

"Your ego doesn't need any help," Noah grunts.

"Spoken like Kurt." She quiets down for a moment, and he can hear her shifting, but she's not getting any closer. She laughs again, a little too high, too sharp. "So Brittany was right."

Noah waits.

"She saw you two kissing at paintball," Santana says. "Wouldn't shut up about how you're not supposed to remove your mask on the field or the lack of pressure will make your eyes pop."

"I still have my eyes."

"Yeah, she said you both had your eyes closed. She's really worried you won't be as lucky next time."

There's no use denying; most of what Brittany says only makes sense if you've had a few or a dozen beers, but Santana has always been able to pick out the 2% that's worth listening to. Instead, Noah sighs, "I promised no one would see. Kurt's gonna kill me."

"And you're whipped. This just gets better and better."

"Listen," Noah says, "call me whipped or whatever, but you can't tell anyone about this."

Santana just breathes by his side, and he can feel the burn of her eyes on him even though neither of them can really see anything, before she says, "Didn't picture Porcelain as the type to be your dirty little secret."

"He's not." Santana chuckles, and Noah repeats, "He's not. He doesn't want to force me out of the closet. He keeps saying I have to come out for me and no one else, and if you ruin this-"

"Got it," Santana says. "I'm a bitch, but I'm not heartless. My lips are sealed."

"... Thanks."

"Yeah, seriously, don't mention it. Ever. Anyway." There's a rustling, and when light slants in from the doorway over Santana's unusually bare face, she offers him one of those smiles that he knows must hurt her lack of a soul: a sympathetic one. "Your boy's in the bathroom cabinets, under the sink."

Noah huffs out a quiet laugh. "You're kidding."

Santana shrugs. "Bendy little thing. I can't blame you for snagging that. Want me to send him your way?"

"Only if Rachel's not around to spot him. He kinda hates losing."

With a nod, Santana turns away. The door's almost shut by the time Noah lunges forward and catches her arm. "Hey, San."

She looks at him as if he were a scuff on her boot. "What now?"

"My lips are sealed too."

"My girl doesn't focus on this stuff like your girl does," she scoffs, and her voice drops as she adds, "but thanks."

Then the door snaps shut, leaving Noah alone with dusty coats and shoes and the shallow pool of light that creeps in between door bottom and carpet and thoughts of the guy that might be slipping into this space with him soon. He tucks his hands into his pockets and waits.

\--------

Noah tries to sneak in casually, but Kurt spots him and tenses the instant the door opens. Without looking up, Mercedes tugs his hand back towards her. "Boy, you want your nails shiny or your fingertips?"

"So," Noah says as he sits cross-legged next to Kurt, and _that_ gets her to snap her head up, suddenly looking just as gobsmacked and Kurt and Rachel seem to be. "What're we doing?"

Kurt looks at Mercedes. She sighs. " _We_ are painting our nails and playing 'Would You Rather' - no Pucks allowed."

"It's kind of a female bonding experience," Rachel adds diplomatically.

Noah smirks. "In my experience, Kurt's not a female."

Kurt gapes at him. "Noah!"

"S'true."

"Noah," Kurt hisses, "you're not exactly keeping your cards close to your chest here."

"Not exactly trying to."

"Excuse me," Rachel says, "but I'm still not sure what Noah's doing here."

Mercedes nods and eyes them both.

"I'm joining in your game." Noah leans in close to Kurt and lightly wraps an arm around his waist. "Would you rather me tell them or you?"

"Your grammar is still atrocious," Kurt says, and then he goes as sheet-pale as the whites of his eyes and whispers, "Wait, tell them?"

"Yeah."

"You mean tell them..."

" _Tell them_ , tell them."

"Tell us what?" Rachel asks.

Noah smiles, Kurt coughs in disbelief, and Mercedes says, "Oh lord, it's finally happening."

"Are you sure?" Kurt says. "If Rachel knows, the whole school will know. They'll know before class is even back in session. The Dalai Lama will know before lunch tomorrow _his time_."

Mercedes offers, "Last chance to back out. I can keep this on the down low, but you know Rachel's as loud as they come."

Rachel frowns.

"I'm sure," Noah says.

Kurt slides his fingers through Noah's, and it tingles, and isn't that some fairy tale crap that Noah never thought was real. "I'd rather you tell them," Kurt says softly.

Noah's never been very good with his words, and he really doesn't want to mess this one up. So instead of botching it with his "atrocious grammar", he lets himself sway forward and drop a barely-there kiss on Kurt's mouth. Rachel gasps and Mercedes is laughing quietly, but Noah doesn't spare them even a glance as he says, close enough still to steal Kurt's air, "I'm kind of in love with your boy."

Distantly, Noah hears Rachel say Kurt's name and Kurt answer, "Yes, Rachel, this is really happening."

She's scooping them up into a hug then, already rattling off the stats of all the wonderful music programs Noah should look into in New York and how much an apartment for five people would cost, and Mercedes falls in beside him in the embrace easily.

"You realize," she says right next to his ear, "that the moment your screwy little brain doesn't keep up..."

"You'd be behind me, Kurt, my mom, my sister, and Mr. H in the 'kicking Puck's ass' line," Noah says.

"So long as we're clear."

"I got this."

Mercedes shakes her head, but she's smiling, and her arm around his back tightens. "It's crazy, but I think you do."

\--------

Noah's face drops, just like Kurt expected. "Really, babe?"

"What's wrong?" Kurt says, playing innocent the best he can, though he's not sure he can fool Noah at all anymore. It seems to work; Noah rubs the back of his hunched up neck and mutters, "Thought we were going to the StiX."

Kurt blinks at him. "You'd rather eat fettucini than play Mario? Who are you and what have you done with Noah?"

In truth, he knows very well that Noah would rather go out to eat than play Mario right now. Sarah's had him racing through Galaxy at a record pace lately, happily collecting star bits as the costar while Noah's thumbs and wrist cramp up. He's whined about it plenty (though even in Kurt's head, Noah's voice protests that he doesn't whine; he's just trying to "express himself", like Kurt says he should). Regardless, if that was all Noah had said, there's no way Kurt would have considered a date at home with a purchased-specifically-for-this-evening copy of Super Mario Galaxy as anything other than an exercise in boyfriend torture.

But that's not all Noah said. He'd said it quietly, during a late phone conversation the night before, groggy and slurred with want and sleep in equal measure, but he'd said it all the same. "Just once," he'd groaned, "I'd like to be the one taking it easy, y'know? I like the dude and all, but Mario's life is hard work."

In the here and now, Noah plasters on a smile so fake that Kurt has trouble not laughing at his dismay and says, "Nah, Mario's my boy. Fire that thing up."

"Actually," Kurt says lightly, and he holds out a wiimote to Noah, the 2nd player light beaming bright blue, "I was thinking I could take the reins tonight. Be my costar?"

Noah stares down at the wiimote, then up at Kurt, his mouth hanging open. "Are you kidding?"

"Kind of waiting for an answer here."

Snagging the wiimote with a lazy, loose smile, Noah says, "I'll be your backup any time, Princess."

"Good to know." Kurt slips the wrist strap on, plugs in the joystick, bounces his leg nervously, and adds, "I will too. Be your backup, I mean. And I might have ordered us BreadstiX to go. Finn should be bringing it home in a half hour or so."

Noah wraps his arm around Kurt's shoulders, says low, "Best boyfriend ever," and kisses him while Mario soars across the title screen in the background.

After they part, there's a beat where Kurt can't look away from Noah. He's caught in the hazel eyes meeting his, the lips pulled into a genuine smile just for him, the smooth slopes of relaxed jaw, shoulders, arms. Then Noah kisses him again quickly and says, "Ready?"

Kurt nods and, with Noah warm, flush next to him, starts a new game.

**Author's Note:**

> 01 :: Super Mario Brothers 3 | 02 :: War | 03 :: Farmville | 04 :: Rock, Paper, Scissors | 05 :: Solitaire | 06 :: Mario Kart: Double Dash | 07 :: Legend of Zelda | 08 :: Tag | 09 :: Goldeneye | 10 :: Ding Dong Ditch | 11 :: Uno | 12 :: Dance Dance Revolution | 13 :: Truth or Dare | 14 :: Clue | 15 :: Spin the Bottle | 16 :: Bayonetta | 17 :: Final Fantasy | 18 :: Pictionary | 19 :: Would You Rather (Take 1) | 20 :: Castlevania: Symphony of the Night | 21 :: Slugbug | 22 :: Twister | 23 :: Ultimate Frisbee | 24 :: Poker | 25 :: Paintball | 26 :: Apples to Apples | 27 :: Rock Band | 28 :: Hide and Seek | 29 :: Would You Rather (Take 2) | 30 :: Super Mario Galaxy


End file.
